


Wolf Moon

by Darkriver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Humor, Knotting, M/M, sour wolf, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 10:07:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkriver/pseuds/Darkriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the Wolf Moon, which is sort of like a werewolf holiday. Derek needs Stiles' help, once again, to contain Scott. Things don't go as planned. Hotness, snark and humor ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is S1 and S2 compliant. But since the show started (according to TW experts) in February and S2 ended sometime in April, this story takes place almost a year after the pilot. So this story basically throws all subsequent seasons out the window. 
> 
> Also, knotting isn't really an interest of mine, but I had a funny idea that involved it, so if it squicks you, don't worry, it's not terribly graphic.

Stiles had developed an acute Derek-sense. It was sort of like Spidey-sense, only instead of dangerous super villains he could sense the presence of broody Sour Wolves. It was an invaluable asset, and one which he paid strict attention to. Because where Derek appeared, trouble was never far behind. For whatever reason, the big bad wolf seemed to greatly enjoy popping up out of thin air and startling him. Or, well, Stiles preferred to think of it that way, that it was all some silly, harmless game rather than the idea that he was being stalked by someone who looked at him like he was a Happy Meal with legs.

So as he fiddled with the keys to his Jeep, he was very much aware that somewhere nearby was that tall, broody alpha wolf with the aversion to razors. Almost, but not quite, he could smell that signature leather jacket. And that gave him inspiration to resent Derek for perverting the smell of tanned cowhide to such an extent for him that he couldn’t even pick up his leather belt without getting erect. 

It was what he called the “Derek Effect.” One day he would accumulate all of his data on this scientific anomaly and turn it into his thesis and possibly go on to win a Nobel Prize. Because the study of the rare and elusive Sour Wolf was certainly of value to the scientific community, he felt. How did one always have two days worth of stubble, no more, no less? How did the Sour Wolf always manage to have great hair, even when he was living in a burned down wreck of a house?

These were very important mysteries to investigate. But Stiles also had more personal questions to answer. For instance, how could the Sour Wolf be at once so piss-in-your-pants terrifying and yet so utterly, despairingly, sexually alluring? Was it a special wolf power? Stiles really wanted it to be a special wolf power because the idea that his bisexual side (which he wasn’t fully prepared to admit to having, thank you very much) found leather-clad, red-eyed, moon-howling bad boys hot was very depressing.

After all the time he had spent despairing at Lydia’s fixation on Jackson, he felt it would be a serious character flaw if he himself fell for someone that no mother in the history of the world would ever approve of.

Stiles looked around, but there was no sign of the big bad wolf. The faint scent of leather had vanished. Had it just been his imagination? His eyes swept the tree line near his house, but there was no movement. Of course, Derek had that worrisome ability to simply appear out of nowhere. Stiles knew that came from being the top of the food chain, but knowing that only made his anxiety more palpable.

Stiles reminded himself there was no reason for the alpha to come and bother him. He was just being paranoid. Of course, being paranoid when you lived in a town that seemed to be the favorite vacation spot of the weird and carnivorous was actually a really good survival tactic. He shook his head, opened the door and climbed in. He didn’t know why Derek liked picking on him. He wasn’t a werewolf. He wasn’t anybody, really. But as sure as night followed day, Derek would pop up at the strangest times to annoy him.

Like now, for instance.

“I need your help.”

“Jesus Christ!”

Stiles dropped his keys on the floorboard, in spite of several frantic grabs to catch them. He did smack his head on the steering wheel as he flailed, which was more embarrassing than painful. Fortunately he kept from wetting himself. He didn’t want to give his visitor that kind of satisfaction. He looked in the rearview mirror. Well, it would be more accurate to say he glared, because being startled had pissed him off.

_Must remember to check the back before getting in from now on._

“How did you even....? Never mind. What do you want?”

Derek’s eyes smoldered. Stiles wished he could find other ways to describe those eyes. Smoldering, searing and captivating all sounded way too sexy. And he was determined to not find Derek sexy. His intermittent attraction to guys was weird enough. Being attracted to feral, moon-crazed monsters was entirely unacceptable. 

“I told you. I need your help.”

“What for?” Stiles demanded, hoping anger would cloak what the smell of that leather jacket did to his brain. 

“Tonight’s the full moon.”

“Yeah, duh. I have an app that tells me that so I know when to chain up Scott and hide in my room.”

Derek didn’t smile. He never smiled. Stiles wondered if he even knew how. “It’s not just any regular full moon. This is the Wolf Moon.”

Stiles’ lips pressed into a thin smile. “Let me guess, that’s bad?” 

_Of course it’s bad_ , he told himself. _It’s always bad._

Derek shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“Uh huh, but let’s get to the bad part.”

“It’s going to overwhelm Scott since he hasn’t trained to control himself.”

“Yeah, well, you know Scott.... Self-control isn’t a big thing with him.”

Derek snorted, which was absolutely not hot. Not in any way. It had no effect on Stiles whatsoever and as long as he kept telling himself that, he would be fine. Derek was a dangerous predator, and that meant that everything he did was to be interpreted as scary and not sexy. It was sort of like a tiger, really. Sure, it looked all cute and cuddly, but you knew better than to try and pet it unless you wanted to lose a hand.

“He needs to be caged. And he doesn’t trust me.”

“I wonder why, given what a great guy you’ve been.”

Derek’s eyes flashed red for a second. “Unless you want Scott to kill someone tonight, you need to help me lock him up.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’m going to chain him up, don’t worry.”

The burning stare behind him didn’t dim. “Chains won’t be strong enough.”

Scott did have an annoying habit of getting off the leash. Stiles drummed his fingers on the wheel of the Jeep. “How do I know this isn’t some way to just capture Scott and turn him to the Dark Side or whatever?”

“You’ll just have to trust me.”

“Hmm, how about no? Got anything else?”

“How about this?” Derek wrapped his fingers around the back of Stile’s neck and extended his claws as a show of his dimming patience.

Stiles rolled his eyes. His life used to be so simple. It was funny to him how he used to complain about how he couldn’t get Lydia to notice him or how everyone thought he was a nerd. All those little high school problems were nothing compared to the weird, dangerous and often terrifying world he now lived in. He missed being the guy who just worried about not having enough friends on Facebook.

“Fine. But I want to see where you’re going to hold him, first.”

Derek glowered at the idea that Stiles thought he got to make conditions. Those pale green pools of liquid feralness seemed to say, “Keep pushing it and I’ll be dining on ‘Stiles a l’orange,’ maybe with a nice tangy Merlot.” Stiles reminded himself that was ridiculous. If anything, Derek would have a beer with his Stiles dinner, probably nothing trendy, maybe something British.

In any case, while Derek wasn’t happy, obviously, he didn’t wolf out about it. “Fine.” The claws withdrew, leaving only faint impressions behind, and a noticeable bulge in Stiles’ jeans.

“Where are we going?”

“The mansion.”

Stiles heaved a sigh and went rooting around for his keys. “Seriously, you need to tear that place down and start over.”

“Some asshole would just burn it down again.”

_And a rational person would ask themselves why that is._

Stiles started the Jeep. As he rolled down the highway, the silence behind him started to bother him. As a rule, he didn’t like silence and he particularly didn’t like it when he had a bipedal, unstable carnivore in his backseat. It made him worry that Derek was contemplating which part of him would taste best with bacon.

“Can I ask you something without it pissing you off?”

Derek’s face twitched. It wasn’t a smile, because he didn’t smile. But over the last few months, Stiles had learned to read the subtle motions of that stony face. This twitch, he thought, represented the last vestiges of whatever was left of Derek’s sense of humor.

“I doubt it,” Derek growled, but then he shrugged as if to say, “you can try.”

Stiles bit back a retort which might get him mauled. He always seemed to be dancing along that line with Derek—but he just couldn’t resist needling him. What that said about Stiles’ survival instincts was up for debate.

“Why do you keep after Scott? You don’t really seem to like him very much.”

Derek hunkered down and brooded quietly for a little bit. This was his “thinking brood” which was all scrunched eyebrows and pursed lips. It was entirely different from his homicidal brood, which had accompanying facial tics and lips curls.

After a while, he made a noncommittal noise, backed up with a shrug. 

“I left my Sour Wolf dictionary in my other pants. Can you translate that for me?”

“Just drive.”

“I can do that and listen all at the same time.”

Derek scowled, but surprised Stiles by answering. “He reminds me of me, before the Argents murdered everyone I care about.”

“Huh?”

Derek brooded some more and looked out the window, indicating his intense desire to not answer.

“You know what I think?”

“I don’t really care what you think.”

Stiles was not so easily dissuaded. “He’s a good guy, someone who wants to do the right thing. I bet you admire him.”

“He’s a moron.”

Stiles stifled a laugh. “You noticed that?”

He caught another mild facial twitch in the rearview mirror. “Hard to miss.”

Stiles couldn’t disagree. “So, am I right?”

“Shut up.”

Stiles chose to take that as a yes.

“It would have been better if Peter had bitten you that night.”

Stiles nearly swerved into a ditch. “What now?”

“You heard me.” Derek actually sounded defensive, which was a tone Stiles had never heard from him before. “You’re obnoxious and you think you’re funny, but at least you’re not stupid.”

“Thanks?”

Derek looked out the window for a few minutes. Then, “Why haven’t you asked to become a werewolf?”

Stiles squirmed in his seat and focused on staying on his side of the road so as to avoid wondering why Derek was asking about his stance on personal lycanthropy. There were entirely too many ways that he could interpret such inquiries that would require panic.

“Well, there’s the whole chance of me dying thing,” he said, glancing in the rearview again.

“Scott survived. You’d be fine.”

Stiles suppressed the proud smile that threatened to creep over his face. He absolutely would not let himself be happy that Derek had some kind of favorable opinion of him. Granted, it was the first thing Derek had ever said about him that could be considered a compliment and so it was a milestone that might need to be commemorated, but it didn’t change anything. It didn’t matter. Derek could glower sexily all he wanted, Stiles would not be swayed.

“Well, maybe, but I don’t want to be some crazy assassin lizard either.”

“Well, that would only happen if you’d fucked Lydia, and you haven’t, so you’re in the clear.”

The word “fuck” out of Derek’s lips did things to Stiles’ brain that he was wildly unprepared for. His vision actually went hazy for a second and he was fairly sure his heart stopped beating. 

“What?” Stiles stammered stupidly for a moment, words tumbling over each other as he tried to figure out the best way to defend his honor. “How do you...? I mean, how would...? You have no idea who I’ve slept with,” he objected, highly offended.

“You haven’t slept with anyone. I’d smell it on you.” He leaned forward and gave Stiles a long, slow sniff. “No Lydia…. No Jackson, either.”

Styles blushed furiously. He didn’t want to know what other secrets Derek might discover through his scent. “You know, you wolves and your noses.... That’s a serious invasion of privacy.”

Derek’s facial twitch was more pronounced that time. But he didn’t respond, merely looking back at the road as they drove along. That was fine, because Stiles was embarrassed and pissed and he didn’t want to talk to the alpha anymore. He would have dumped him on the side of the road like a smelly hitchhiker, in fact, were there actually any way he, Stiles, could expurgate the muscular werewolf from his car.

They reached the ruined mansion in tense silence. Derek led him down into the basement, the stairs creaking under his heavy boots. Stiles stayed right on his heels, because the mansion just freaked him all the hell out. He was just sure it was haunted. If they got attacked by ghosts, he figured he could feed them Derek while he ran for his life.

In the basement, Derek made his way to a broken-down, empty bookcase and heaved it aside. Beyond was a door and beyond that more stairs. Stiles wondered if they were heading into the Mines of Moria, because his brain worked that way, but he didn’t say anything.

At the bottom of the stairs was a solid steel door. It looked like a bank vault. It even had a hand wheel, which Derek took hold of and turned. A moment later, the impressively heavy door swung open, and lights flickered to life in the room beyond.

Derek gave him his best annoyed look and swept is arms towards the room in a gesture that could have been chivalrous if it wasn’t being done so grumpily. Stiles refused to show any fear at being so far underground with the sexy, scary guy, so he walked on in and hoped this wasn’t the dumbest thing he’d ever done in his life.

“Whoa,” was his comment.

This wasn’t the small dungeon he had expected, dank and cold and awful. It was more like a studio apartment. There was a small kitchenette, complete with a fridge and a microwave. In the corner was a small bathroom. There were even some bean bag chairs and a TV. 

“Sweet,” Stiles approved, looking in the fridge. It was full of sodas, snacks and a rather lot of raw meat. Everything an imprisoned werewolf could want, except maybe a rawhide bone.

“Glad you approve. Will you call Scott now?”

Stiles shrugged. “Is this where you always go every full moon?”

Derek shook his head, his temper creeping to the surface. “Peter only just told me about this place.”

“Huh. Looks like a pretty cool place to crash....”

He was trying to keep his tone light. He didn’t know if Derek smelled anything suspicious about him. Could werewolves smell deceit? He had no idea. Stiles smiled his most friendly smile and edged towards the vault door. Derek’s eyes watched in a way that could only be described as predatory. 

_A few more feet, a few more steps...._

“I’d be on you before you got near it,” Derek told him. 

“Wh-What do you mean?” Stiles asked, using the innocent voice he always used with his father.

It didn’t help him anymore here than it did with his dad. “You were going to try and lock me in here.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

Derek glared at him. 

“Not really....”

The glare intensified.

“Well, you did say you wolves are dangerous during this full moon....”

“Scott is. I’m not.”

Stiles eyed the vault door speculatively. He would never make it. But oh if he could.... So many problems would be solved if he could just jail Derek up in here. Not forever. Just until he learned to be a good wolf. Maybe he’d take him out for walks, if he behaved….

“I showed you this place, so call Scott already.”

Stiles shrugged. “I texted him on the way over. I figured you were either telling the truth or I’d need a wolf on my side to thwart whatever evil scheme you have.”

Derek got right up in his face, huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf he was. Stiles managed to hold that searing gaze for almost a minute before he had to look away. Derek’s scent was distractingly enticing. Stiles had the irrational urge to lean in close and sniff him, which he stubbornly suppressed. Not only would it be weird on an epic scale, he didn’t have any idea how Derek would react and it might include violence.

“Does anyone actually use the word ‘thwart’ anymore?”

Stiles looked up at Derek and blinked several times before breaking out into a grin. “I guess not.”

Derek made a snorting sound which was either his version of a laugh or perhaps some sort of canine sub-vocalization. There was really no way for Stiles to tell for certain.

“So, what’s the plan? How do we get Scott in here? I hope it doesn’t involve me getting stuck in here too.”

Derek didn’t back off of him. Instead, he leaned in and gave Stiles a sniff. _What the fuck was that about?_ he wondered, even as he did his best to stop his heart from fluttering in excitement. 

“That would be stupid,” Derek finally replied. “You’d die if I left you in here with him.”

“Scott wouldn’t actually….” Stiles gaped at him. “He’d know me and…. Come on, you can’t say he’d actually hurt me.”

Derek’s implacable stare didn’t falter. “Without control, he’d be unable to stop himself. Maybe Allison could keep him from losing it, but you’d be wolf chow.”

Stiles gulped. “Okay, I’m sold. What do we do? How do we get Scott in here?”

Derek looked baffled. “This is Scott we’re talking about. Do we really need some Machiavellian plan to catch him?”

Stiles was hugely impressed that Derek knew the word “Machiavellian.” He grinned with real humor and nodded. “That’s true. We could probably just put down a trail of Cocoa Puffs and he’d follow it right in.”

“I don’t have Cocoa Puffs.”

“I was kidding….”

“I have Captain Crunch, will that work?”

Only Stiles extensive study of Derek’s facial tics clued him in that the broody wolf was actually joking back. What did that mean? Stiles had no idea. He hadn’t ever before thought the man even had a sense of humor.

“I prefer Crunch Berries.”

Stiles and Derek both turned their surprised gazes on Scott, who was standing in the doorway looking a little pissed off. Stiles guessed he had overheard more than he should have.

“You’re getting better at walking quietly,” Derek approved.

“Yeah, thanks,” Scott snapped. 

Stiles felt guilty. It was one thing to mock Scott’s idiocy to his face, something Stiles really loved to do and engaged in at every opportunity. It was another thing to make jokes about him behind his back with a guy who was their enemy at least every other week.

“Scott, you’ve got to be feeling it already,” Derek told him. “This isn’t like the regular full moon. This is the Wolf Moon. You’re going to be a danger to people.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed, though if in anger or thought it was hard to tell. Stiles had a theory that serious thought was such a trial on his best friend that it actually irritated him. It certainly explained why he was so grouchy after tests.

“You seem to tell me that a lot. I’m not buying it this time.”

“Scott, I mean it. You need to be locked up tonight.”

Scott shook his head. “No way. But since you two are such good buddies,” he said, giving Stiles a betrayed look. “I’ll let you two hang out in here until tomorrow.”

“Scott, don’t!” Stiles shouted.

Derek moved like lightning, but he didn’t make it before Scott closed the door on him. They heard the tumblers click into place with a terrible finality.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now they're stuck together and Derek is succumbing to the Wolf Moon. Whatever will they do to solve their predicament?

Stiles watched Derek bang on the metal door in anger for a moment, completely nonplussed. He was now trapped with a dangerous predator during what the very same dangerous predator had told him was particularly dangerous time. Panic really seemed like the only option.

“Call him, tell him to open the door,” Derek snarled.

Stiles blinked and realized he was being a moron, which was something he wasn’t used to. He snatched his phone out of his pocket and hit the speed dial. It rang and rang and then went to voicemail. He tried again. He tried a third time.

_Fucking Scott!_

“He’s not answering.”

“Call him back.”

“He’s not answering!” Stiles snapped. “I’ll text him, but I bet he’s already turned his phone off.”

_Scott, sorry about anything you heard, but this is serious. Let us out._

He hit send and then paced back and forth for a few minutes. As he expected, though, there was no reply. When Scott got pissed, it could take him hours to get over it. Or longer. It depended on how much of a snit he was in. And how long it had been since he’d gotten it on with Allison.

“You need to get him to open the door.”

Derek sounded panicked under his usual Sour Wolf tone. That worried Stiles a lot more than the threatening glower on the man’s face. “What do you want me to do? Use my Jedi mind powers to force him to come back?”

Derek ran his hands through his hair and paced like a trapped animal. Well, Stiles supposed he _was_ a trapped animal. The problem was that Stiles was trapped with him. And when a human was trapped with a wild animal, things got very messy. At least, that’s what he’d learned on Animal Planet.

“So, you have to have a failsafe, some way to get out of here if you needed to.”

Derek shook his head. “No, it’s designed to hold an alpha wolf. There is no way out.”

Stiles flopped onto one of the bean bags. “Great. This really is the last time I listen to you.”

“You’ve listened to me before?”

Stiles glowered at him. “So now what?”

Derek shook his head. He was still pacing. “The full moon will be up soon. If he doesn’t get back here…. I mean, do you think it’s possible he’s still in the mansion? Maybe he’s just going to leave us here for a few minutes to get his revenge?”

Stiles shrugged. “Maybe? I don’t think he’d open the door again, though. Since he knows we want to lock him in here, he’s probably not going to risk us grabbing him.”

“Fuck,” Derek snarled. “That friend of yours is really getting on my last nerve.”

“Well, take it up with Peter. He bit him, so you only have him to blame.”

Derek huffed at him and then went back to pacing. Stiles squirmed and tried to get comfortable, a futile quest he quickly discovered. No matter how he wriggled his butt, he just couldn’t find any way to arrange his limbs in some dignified way. Whoever had invented bean bag chairs had obviously ridden the short bus to school.

He stared moodily ahead, wondering how he kept finding himself in these predicaments. Of course, Derek was the common denominator. If his life was in danger, it was almost certainly because of the obnoxiously hot alpha wolf.

“Still nothing?” Derek’s tone smacked of desperation, which was unprecedented, and very bad-sounding and made Stiles both want to reassure him and hide from him at the same time.

“No….” Stiles eyed him suspiciously. “You said you could control yourself during the Wolf Moon. Why are you so panicked?”

“I’m not panicked,” he snapped.

“Dude, I panic like every week. I know the signs.”

Derek growled low in his throat, his eyes flashing red. Then he shook himself, as if fighting off the aggressive feelings. “I _can_ control myself. I was going to go far into the forest away from people and have a really nice hunt and enjoy the full moon. Being trapped with you is … not good.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“That’s not what I meant.

“Then what did you mean? What sort of ‘not good’ are we talking about here?”

Derek’s look was very serious. “Wolf chow.”

Stiles gulped. “Seriously?” 

Derek nodded gravely. “I’ll fight it, but the Wolf Moon is when we are strongest. Our instincts overrule our brains.”

“Um, maybe if you ate before? The fridge was stocked with rib eyes, I noted.”

Derek shook his head. “Won’t help. You’ll be in my territory. I’ll kill you, either for food or as a threat.”

Stiles spread his arms. “Me? A threat?”

Derek shrugged. “In wolf terms.”

“How about if I bash you over the head with pottery? That always knocks people out in TV land.”

Derek’s grim expression told him he was welcome to try. On reflection, Stiles decided that now was not the best time to be threatening the grouchy, territorial, soon-to-be-carnivorous alpha wolf with assaults by crockery.

Stiles sent another panicked text message to Scott. _He says he’s gonna eat me! Let me out!_

Another half hour passed. Stiles watched Derek pace, wondering how long he had before he became Kibbles and Bits. This was not how he had planned to go out. Though, in truth, he hadn’t really planned on going out at all. He’d sort of hoped to graduate school, get into the Guinness book of World’s records for something and maybe even have sex before the whole death thing.

“Maybe I can lock myself in the bathroom?”

“I’d huff and puff and blow the door down.”

Stiles gaped at him. Was Derek actually smiling? Had he made a joke? 

“Wolf Moon,” Derek breathed, reading his questioning expression. “It’s a little like being drunk.”

Stiles shook his head. “Great, I’m going to die, and you’re making jokes.”

“You’re not going to die.”

“What? But you said—”

“There’s a way to keep you alive. I just wanted to motivate you to get Scott back here.”

Stiles sulked. “Dude! That is not of the cool.”

Derek shrugged, infuriatingly and sexily unperturbed. “Sometimes you need a push, I’ve found. You can be stubborn for no real reason at all.”

Stiles was about to give him a scathing response when his phone beeped.

_In case Derek was right, had my mom lock me in hospital basement. Didn’t want to risk hurting Allison. Need rescue?_

Stiles was about to type a boldfaced, italicized, underlined “yes” in all caps, but he paused. If Derek was telling the truth (and that was a coin-toss, really) then Scott was better off locked up. If Derek could keep his appetite under control then it was safer for the denizens of Beacon Hills to just have Scott stay where he was.

_No, it’s under control. You r in 4 it tomorrow._

_Me? You totes stabbed me in the back._

_Whatevs._

Stiles shut the phone off. “He’s locked himself up.”

Derek was clearly surprised. “Really?”

“Yep, so he’s off the streets.”

Derek nodded, thinking that over. “Maybe he’s not so dumb after all.”

“Oh, no, he really is,” Stiles murmured, still annoyed by Scott trapping him in here. “But he’s scared of hurting people.”

“If he would just listen to me….”

“Yeah, well, we can revisit that later. Right now, I’d like to discuss how we go about making you not eat me.”

Derek nodded, eying him speculatively. “You’re going to need to trust me.”

“Well, then I’m truly fucked.”

A strange smile crossed Derek’s face at that. “Take off your shirt,” he said as he slipped his leather jacket off his shoulders.

“I beg your … pardon?”

After the jacket, Derek had quickly doffed his tee shirt as well. The sight of that chiseled, sculpted torso quite deprived Stiles of all brain function. In spite of everything in his head that told him that drooling over Derek was the worst idea in the history of bad ideas, he couldn’t stop himself from just, well, drooling.

“Don’t freak,” Derek told him, an annoyed wrinkle returning to his lips. “Just do as I say and you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, doing what you say got me into this mess in the first place, so how about we try some explaining?”

Derek growled low in his throat. “You need to ramp the attitude down, for your own sake.”

Stiles folded his arms. “Yeah?”

Derek snarled and stormed over to him. Stiles tried to scramble to his feet, but the treacherous, wretched bean bag refused to let go like it was some sort of light fluffy quicksand. He flailed, kicked and eventually succeeded in tumbling out of the thing. By that point, of course, it was far too late to escape. The big bad and nicely shirtless wolf grabbed him by the shirtfront and pulled him in close. His eyes burned, as usual, but there was something there more than anger.

“Um, sorry? Nice wolfy…. Good wolfy… I’ll behave” Stiles promised.

Derek flashed a toothy smile and ripped both Stiles’ flannel outer shirt and dark tee shirt off of him in one savage motion. 

“Oh shit, you’re going to bite me!”

“Yeah, two wolves trapped in a small space during Wolf Moon. That would be brilliant.”

Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, good, that’s good. So wh— Hey, what are you…?”

Derek grabbed him, sliding his arms around Stiles’ narrow torso and pulling him close. All at once, Derek’s scent—that spicy mixture of maleness, clean skin and something else Stiles assumed was wolf, overwhelmed him. He aborted his initial struggles instantly, not wanting to upset the alpha again. The next thing Derek tore off might be skin.

Derek nuzzled him, which was weird and hot and entirely confusing all at the same time. “I’m putting my scent on you. If I smell me on you, I won’t feel the need to attack.”

“That…. That sounds, um, good.”

Derek made a contented sound as he held Stiles close against him. “You smell nice.”

Stiles blinked. “You mean ‘nice’ like a Milk Bone? Or some other kind of nice?”

Derek’s chest rumbled with something that might have been laughter. Since Stiles had never heard such a sound from the big alpha, there was no way to be certain. It could just as easily be some weird wolf noise, meant to call the rest of the pack to dinner time.

“Nice like clean and pure and sweet.”

“Could we try putting it in a way that doesn’t make me sound edible?” Stiles pleaded.

“But you _are_ edible,” Derek said in a deep, low growl.

Stiles panicked and stepped back, folding his arms protectively in front of his naked chest. “What game are you playing at, here?”

“No games.” Derek’s gaze was unsettlingly predatory.

Stiles' skepticism was all over his face. “Are you…. Are you coming on to me?”

Derek grinned, the flash of genuine humor as rare as a unicorn and it made Stiles’ knees weak. “Maybe….”

“You…. But…. That doesn’t make any sense.” 

Derek being gay or bi was bizarre, but Stiles could process that. He had, in his brief lifetime, confronted many things which made no sense—werewolves, deep fried ice cream, the popularity of One Direction, etc. He could absorb that. It was the idea that the absurdly sexy man was interested in _him_ that defied all sense. It was, he felt, the difference between the improbable and the impossible.

Derek didn’t seem to agree. He closed the gap between them and wrapped Stiles up in a nice, warm, affectionate and entirely inescapable hug. Stiles let out a small sound that a mouse might make at the sight of a cat. Derek shushed him.

“I’m not going to eat you,” Derek promised. “I may lick you, though.”

Stiles trembled. “What?” he asked in a voice that cracked and warbled in ways that would have embarrassed him, if he didn’t have a dozen other things to be embarrassed about first.

Derek laughed softly, and Stiles was fairly certain it really was laughter this time. The rumbling echoed across every inch of Stiles’ nervous system, from toes to scalp. He hoped very much that his erection wasn’t obvious. Of course, that annoyingly perceptive wolf nose would pick up on it, somehow, regardless. There was absolutely no privacy or any way to preserve one’s dignity around a wolf.

“Relax.”

“I’m trapped with an alpha wolf who has to molest me to keep from eating me. This is not relaxing.”

“I’m not molesting you—yet.”

One of Derek’s hands moved to the back of his head and caressed him so sweetly that all of the tension left Stile’s body. It was like Derek had found his off switch, like the one Data had on Star Trek: The Next Generation. His righteous indignation sputtered out like a guttering flame and he relaxed against Derek and closed his eyes. 

“I like that you’re letting your hair grow out.”

“Yeah? I was getting tired of the skin-head look. I started shaving it when I got lice a few years ago and I just got used to it.” He winced. “The hair, I got used to the hair. Or lack of it. Not the lice. The lice are gone. Um, not that you needed to hear about lice. Forget about the lice. You never heard me mention lice.”

“It’s very nice,” Derek approved, ignoring his babbling.

The wolf’s other hand now traipsing along Stiles’ spine, which was very nice and soothing and arousing and this was just like several dreams that Stiles had had, only this had scents and soft cooing noises and worries about how clean his underwear were. 

“I still don’t know what I want to do with it. I may let it gr— What is your hand doing down there?” he asked indignantly.

His tone lacked the outrage of before. It was more of a quiet disapproval to indicate that his virtue was not up for grabs. Though grabbing seemed to be what Derek had in mind, because he was apparently a very naughty wolf. It was, Stiles reflected, one of his milder character flaws, and something he might enjoy under different circumstances.

Derek cupped his ass again and nuzzled him. “Checking the produce?”

Stiles pulled back enough to glare up at him. “There will be none of that.”

Derek’s intense, riveting stare bore into him. “No?”

“No.” 

Stiles absolutely would not allow it. Yes, it felt good. And yes, he was turned on. But he was a teenage guy. He was used to being turned on by just about everything, including strong breezes. He was not going to be groped and man-handled by Derek. He would lose all respect for himself if he let Derek paw him and tease him and make him moan like that nail running up his spine made him want to do. It was bad enough that he felt close to coming just from this unexpectedly intimate contact.

“Why not?”

Stiles glared, which he supposed was about as intimidating as when a kitten hissed at a Great Dane. “Because it won’t. You’re only doing this because of this stupid Wolf Moon, anyway, and when it’s over you’ll probably be embarrassed and then you’ll get pissed and take it out on me like when you slammed my head into my dashboard—which was seriously uncool, by the way— and whatever dirty things you have in mind are just not worth it!”

Sometimes, his tongue got away from him. Often, that led to jokes people didn’t get or excuses that were so stupid his father would never believe them. In this case, it seemed like it was going to lead to him being gobbled up like Red Riding Hood.

Derek was huffing, deep gusts of breath snorting out of his nostrils. His eyes were glowing, which was bad in every way. Only now did Stiles remember that he had been warned about his attitude. Of course, that was hardly the first time he’d been warned about mouthing off. It was, though, the first time that it might get him killed.

“Sorry?” Stiles offered.

Derek growled, low and dangerous. One of his hands gripped Stiles’ bare shoulder tight enough to bruise. It could just as easily break skin, crush bone or do any number of things to his relatively fragile and very human body.

_This is it. I’m Wolf Chow. Goodbye, cruel world._

“Pet me.”

“What did you just say?” Stiles demanded, sure he had just heard wrong.

“My wolf is getting away from me because you’re being so, well, _you._ I need you to help me keep it calm. Now pet me.”

Stiles didn’t see how this would help, since in his experience angry animals didn’t much like being petted. But since it was this or messy death, he decided it was worth a try, so he did as asked. Tentatively at first, until he was sure none of his fingers were going to be eaten as appetizers, he petted the ominously growling predator. The effect was surprisingly immediate. At once, the tension evaporated from the snarling wolf and the red vanished from his eyes. He was going to have to remember this. Derek had a weakness. That could come in very handy. The next time he got out of hand, Stiles would just pet him into submission and if he was really good, rub his belly.

He stroked fingers through Derek’s dark hair until the big tough wolf was snorting happily into his shoulder. It was cute, and Stiles had to admit it in spite of himself. Derek, big, dangerous and unspeakably handsome Derek, was melting under his caressing fingers. For the first time ever, Stiles had the upper hand and he liked it. He felt like he was in control.

Of course, he was wrong.

“That’s nice,” Derek approved, nuzzling him as Stiles gently scratched the back of his neck. “Much better.”

Stiles smiled, very amused by the situation. Derek said this moon was like being drunk. If so, then he was going to be awfully embarrassed when he sobered up and realized how adorable he had been. His bad-ass reputation would never be the same. Stiles wondered if there was any way he could get a few photos with his phone without Derek noticing.

“Um, hey….”

Derek was licking at his neck, which felt way better than it should and was absolutely not on the list of things that the alpha was permitted to do. He was fine keeping Derek pacified, but he was not some sort of ice cream cone. The fact that it felt amazing and sent ripples of ecstasy dancing across nerves that normally didn’t have much to say to him was, he felt, entirely irrelevant and possibly even insulting. Stiles stifled a moan, but too late. Derek heard and hummed happily while he continued to taste Stiles’ flesh.

“Okay, no, this is not—ahhh–h-happening.”

“You can’t deny you’re as horny as I am.”

“Um, no, but…. You’re basically drunk.”

“Not really.”

“Uh huh. That’s what all drunk people say.”

Derek sighed, his breathing tickling Stiles’ skin in an unseemly fashion. “Stop being difficult.”

“But you don’t actually like me.”

“Why would you say that?” Derek asked, flicking that devilish tongue over an earlobe.

“Because you’re always threatening me? And please stop that this instant.” His demand lacked any kind of force and he knew it.

“If I didn’t like you Stiles, I’d have killed you a long time ago.”

“Um, not really comforting.” Stiles swallowed and trembled. “Down boy, behave….”

Derek growled, but it was a playful growl. And that somehow disturbed Stiles way more than a threatening growl. He was used to threatening growls. He was used to Derek scaring him. This affectionate, playful creature holding him was completely foreign to him and it was a serious threat to his virtue, which had never seemed all that important before but suddenly seemed like a precious thing in need of armed security guards. Because if the only thing that stood between his virtue and Derek’s predatory groping was Stiles, then he was quite seriously and possibly literally fucked.

“I like you Stiles,” Derek murmured into his shoulder, chipping away at his defenses.

“I bet you say that to all the guys whose pants you try to get into,” Stiles parried.

“You’re the only one I want.”

“Uh huh. How many guys have fallen for this, ‘it’s the wolf moon and I need you’ line before? Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good schtick, but seriously….”

Derek’s dark eyes met his with such shocking intensity that Stiles caught his breath. “It’s only ever been you.”

The admission was quiet, soft, but adamant. “You never said anything,” Stiles argued. 

His protests, never that strong to start with, were growing ever more feeble. He knew it. If this were a boxing match, he knew he’d be the guy swaying back and forth on his feet waiting for the final, devastating blow that would knock him out. 

“I figured you’d freak out. And then say something clever that would piss me off,” Derek admitted. “I knew you were into me. I mean, that thing with the shirt in your room….”

“I thought we agreed never to speak of that again.”

“I never agreed to that,” Derek told him.

“Damn.”

“Anyway, I knew you liked me, but I also knew you didn’t _like_ liking me, which was confusing. Your scent is really hard to figure out sometimes.”

“Well, welcome to the inside of my head.” Stiles smiled and found himself nuzzling Derek’s hair. He put a stop to that immediately. “I’d like to believe you.”

“Then believe me,” Derek said, as if it were that simple. 

Stiles squeaked in an undignified way when one of his nipples was licked. “Stop that, stop….”

“You just keep making no sense. Your mouth says stop, but your scent says, ‘more please.’”

“My scent has nothing to do with it,” Stiles insisted.

“It has everything to do with it. I love your scent.”

“Uh….” Stiles didn’t know what Ms. Manners would say would be the right response to that.

“Why do you think I always find excuses to be around you?”

“Um….” That was, actually, a really good question.

“Just relax, it’ll be fine.”

“What will? No, no, bad wolf! Heel!”

Derek maneuvered him down to the floor. Well, in point of fact, he maneuvered him down to a series of large cushions covering part of the floor. Once settled, he kissed him hard. Stiles had read a lot about kissing. He’d watched a number of instructive videos. None of those things prepared him for the reality of Derek’s domineering, demanding lips pressed to his own.

He let out a helpless moan against Derek, his whole body shaking with such need that he couldn’t think straight. All of his rationalizations for why this was a very bad idea disintegrated. He wanted this. He had wanted this for a long time. He’d jerked off so many times thinking of something like this.

So, sure, maybe Derek was an insufferable Sour Wolf most of the time with an agenda that was murky in the most optimistic point of view. He was also hot as Hell and at least at the moment, he was kind of sweet too. They might regret this in the morning, but that was the morning. This was now. Stiles kind of liked the whole ‘now’ thing.

Stiles slipped his arms around Derek and did his best to keep up with the Olympic-caliber kissing that he was receiving. The man’s tongue was impossibly dexterous, and the fencing contest between it and Stiles’ own was decidedly one-sided. He did his best, because it was fun, but he was way out of his division. 

When Derek pulled back for a moment, his eyes were hazy with lust. Stiles bit his lower lip and looked into that sex-hungry stare. Only in his wildest and most exotic fantasies had he ever imagined someone looking at him with so much desire. It made him very self-conscious all of a sudden.

“Hi,” he breathed, eying the sexy alpha through his lashes and blushing.

“Hi,” Derek replied and licked him along his jaw bone.

Stiles giggled. “Stop that!”

Derek’s eyes were bright with a happiness that had never been seen before. He bent down and licked Stiles from navel to neck, which was hot but still made Stiles squirm and giggle because he was terribly ticklish.

“Stop that!” he said again, laughing even harder.

“Or what?” Derek asked, scraping his teeth over Stiles’ neck. “Hmm?”

Stiles had no answer to that. He shifted and tried to get comfortable, but the lumpiness of the bedding was a problem. He frowned and looked around. “What are we lying on?” His brow knitted. “Wait, these aren’t….”

“Premium, hypo-allergenic, extra large dog beds, yes.” 

“You have just got to be kidding.”

“Having anything down here with springs would be a danger to an out of control wolf. I had to secure the fridge with steel struts.”

“But…. Really? Isn’t that, you know, demeaning?”

Derek shook his head. “They’re actually really comfortable.”

Stiles laughed as he toed off his sneakers. “Great, I’m going to lose my virginity to a werewolf on a pile of dog beds. How romantic.”

“You want romance? Should I get some Kenny G playing?”

“Don’t you dare,” Stiles told him. “No, this is fine.” He licked his lips, still blushing. “Actually, this is hot and weird and awesome and totally crazy.”

“I was thinking, ‘overdue’.”

Stiles was about to make some sarcastic comment when Derek’s hands found him again. He expected groping, which would have been nice. Instead, shredding ensued, and while Stiles squawked in protest, Derek didn’t even pause until Stiles lay there in just his socks.

“Dude! Seriously? It had buttons, you know.”

“That would take too long,” said the wolf, getting his boots off.

“A few seconds is too long?”

“I liked tearing your clothes off. Sue me.”

Stiles blushed and covered himself with his hands, which was both stupid and pointless. He just wasn’t used to the idea of being naked and hard with someone else in the room. And Derek wasn’t giving him any time to ease into the idea.

Stiles bit his lower lip when Derek started to remove his jeans. He had imagined this moment too many times to let himself get distracted by lodging a protest over his utterly destroyed clothes. They were just so much fabric after all, and this was Derek. It was Derek unbuckling belts, unbuttoning buttons and unzipping zippers. It was Derek and impending nakedness. Stiles didn’t want to miss a second.

He hoped he wasn’t actually drooling.

Derek paused just as the show was getting good. “I forgot something. Be right back.”

Stiles arched an eyebrow, watching in appreciation as the muscular alpha wolf (who for some incomprehensible reason wanted to sex him up in any number of filthy ways) sauntered into the bathroom. He came back after only a moment with a clear bottle in his hand. His eyes were, somehow, even more sultry and full of naughty promises than before.

He tossed the bottle to Stiles, who scrambled with both hands to catch the little container whose purpose he had some guesses at. He was a virgin, but he was a virgin with an extremely academic mind and access to the internet. 

Derek shucked his jeans and underwear in one motion, and Stiles found himself gaping at what was thus revealed to him. Suddenly, arousal turned to terror. Well, it mixed with terror. Well, it mixed with great trepidation. In any case, while he was still horny, he had serious doubts about the physics of what Derek clearly had in mind. He was not the TARDIS from Doctor Who. He was not bigger on the inside.

Derek settled atop him and started kissing him again, and suddenly all those worries about things getting broken slipped out of his mind. Those things could be addressed at some point when that tongue wasn’t tickling his tonsils and making his toes curl and making him track back to the last time he flossed. 

_This morning, we’re good._

Stiles simply could not believe this was happening. It had to be the Wolf Moon. Maybe it put werewolves into heat? Or, as Derek said, maybe it acted like alcohol and just mellowed Sour Wolves out so they could be sexually aggressive and not broody and sullen. If it was just the Wolf Moon then he was confident it would replace Christmas as his favorite day of the year.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets more than he bargained for

_I’m naked with Derek Hale. I’m naked and hard with Derek Hale._

That realization circled in his brain, the only thought surviving in the wasteland left in the wake of Derek’s hungry lips and groping hands and immorally lascivious growls. The situation was impossible. It simply couldn’t be. Yet it was, so Stiles ran his hands over the alpha’s broad back and let himself go.

The nibbling at his neck was an unsportsmanlike tactic and it left Stiles in a tatter of need and lust and want. He moaned and canted his head aside to encourage Derek, though his primal instincts objected loudly to offering his throat to a predator. When it comes down to primal instincts, though, libido won out every time.

Stiles’ nails dug in when he felt those teeth leaving a mark he would have a lot of trouble explaining later. He was pretty sure one couldn’t get lycanthropy from a hickey, but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t actually care. He just wanted more of everything.

His arms were pinned to the cushions and Derek looked fiercely into his eyes. The very hard dick, coated in precum, rubbing so obscenely against Stiles own demanding cock made him flush from toes to scalp. His eyes darted upwards to look at Derek and then slid sideways because the lust there was overwhelming. They darted back again and then away again, because Stiles wasn’t really sure what to do or say.

Derek leaned in and licked one pebbled nub, which sent electric shocks across Stiles’ nerves. He had never been this turned on. He hadn’t really thought one _could_ be this turned on. He’d read about it in stories and always scoffed (after jacking off furiously, of course) at the idea that sex could be this intense. Now he thought those stories had undersold it. Sex, he decided, was the best thing ever.

Derek flicked his tongue tormentingly over each of his painfully hard nipples. Stiles, pinned and helpless, could no nothing but moan pleadingly as Derek had his way. Some part of him questioned whether he should really like being this submissive, but Stiles wasn’t listening to it. His cock was in charge right now and it was telling him this was the best thing to happen to it since the discovery of masturbation.

“Um…?” Stiles queried when he was rolled onto his stomach.

This position was not dignified and it certainly wasn’t comfortable. It also robbed certain parts of him from protection, which brought back to mind those physics questions. But then something completely rude and impossible and wonderful happened and Stiles let out a yelp of shock.

Derek was teasing his hole with that unfairly dexterous tongue of his. It should not feel good. There was no justification for it feeling good. Certain parts of the body were just there, Stiles felt. They served a function but played no part in the more festive physical activities.

Yet the more that tongue swirled around his tight ring, the more incoherent he got. Derek was some sort of dark sorcerer on top of being an alpha wolf. That was the only explanation. There was no other way he could know all of these ways to turn Stiles into a gibbering, squirming puddle of lust. 

Deeper and deeper the tongue went. Stiles face-planted in the dog bed and moaned in a truly slutty way. Another thing he hadn’t known about sex was just how mortifyingly undignified it was. Laying here, naked and splayed out and helpless, he should have been appalled, but instead he was just aroused and excited.

A cap clicked. Something firmer than a tongue pushed into him. Stiles didn’t care anymore. He was Derek’s and that was fine with him. Physics didn’t apply during sex, he reasoned. After all, physics couldn’t explain how his bones had all turned to jelly. Clearly, the laws of the universe were suspended when orgasms were in progress.

The second finger was more uncomfortable than the first, but it was not too bad really and then they brushed over something magical that made Stiles moan happily. Definitely dark sorcery, he decided. Derek had cast a spell to turn Stiles into the perfect needy little slut. And if it didn’t feel so good, then Stiles would have protested. Maybe. Possibly.

The stretching didn’t hurt, it just felt odd. And when the third finger bore into him, he squirmed and panted and glanced over his shoulder. Derek looked adorably serious as he focused on gently prying open Stiles’ virginal passage.

“So, are you gonna try and get the whole hand in there?” he slurred.

Derek gave him an evil smile. “No, I have something else to put in there. Just want you nice and relaxed.”

Stiles grinned dopily and dropped his head back down onto his arms. He felt completely blissful, like he was floating on a magical cloud of erotic wonderment. Every nerve was on edge, his skin tingling with anticipation.

“Up on your hands and knees,” Derek murmured.

“Woof!” Stiles joked as he complied.

Only, it didn’t seem to come off as a joke to the alpha crouched so wonderfully naked behind him. It seemed to be more of a mating call. Derek moved over him, muscle and warmth and dominance. His cock was positioned, the mushroom head fitted into Stiles well-lubricated entrance. Then there was a throaty growl that sent Stiles head spinning. And then pushing, and shoving and growling and panting.

Stiles was so prepared for pain that the slight burning sensation was quite a relief. It still shocked him how much cock was going into him, because there was just no way anyone had a right to be this hung, but his body adjusted. He was really proud of himself, actually, for taking it all. It made him feel tough, which wasn’t something he had a lot of experience with.

Then, because he was naughty and because he couldn’t resist, he barked again. Derek growled low in his throat and went all to pieces. He lunged into Stiles hard, fucking him with sensuous brutality. Stiles yelped as he was forced onto his elbows, completely at the mercy of the massive cock spearing him.

Nothing in his life had prepared him for how good this felt. On those occasions when he had allowed himself to think of fooling around with a guy (who wasn’t Derek, certainly, but really his cousin Kereck who looked exactly like him, but was much nicer and always laughed at Stiles’ jokes) he had only ever gone as far as pondering blow jobs. Sucking cock had seemed like an interesting thing to attempt, and something Kereck would have patiently let him try out and stop doing if he didn’t like it.

The idea of getting fucked had never entered his mind. Or, well, it had but the notion had been entirely too scary to jerk off to more than three times. He certainly had never believed it could feel this good. He’d thought maybe it was something good boyfriends did for sweet guys like Kereck, as a way of saying, “I like you and I will let you use me in filthy, shameful ways because it will make you feel good and because I know you will cuddle me afterwards and be ever so grateful.”

Instead, it turned out to be amazing—the way that thrusting, relentless dick up his ass was setting off fireworks in his brain was completely unbelievable. It was almost rude how it totally took over his whole being, how it reduced him to a whimpering, wriggling mass of want and lust and pleading.

Every time that prodigious tool massaged that magical bundle of nerves, he was helpless to prevent a shuddering cry from spilling out. This was no gentle, sweet, tender loving (of the sort that Kereck surely would have delivered, after dinner and flowers and maybe romantic poetry), this was rampant and wild and oh so good. He was being fucked—jack-hammered, really—by Derek Hale and he was hollering and whimpering in sheer, unfettered need.

The only thing that would have made it better would have been having his hand around his aching cock. His balls were in dire need of some relief. But with Derek’s considerable weight on him, there was nothing he could do. That was maddening, and it made the desperation in his cries even more carnal.

He was about to beg for some kind of friction on his throbbing dick when, to his complete surprise, he came hard in spurt after wonderful, toe-curling spurt without so much as a finger on him. Stiles didn’t have the brain power left to figure out the how or why of that, because Derek was still going to town on him. In the vernacular, Stiles was being “pwned.”

His climax, weirdly, only made Stiles hornier. That was confusing and unprecedented. His dick hardly softened at all, as if it were only too happy to keep the party going. Giddy with the raw sexual power being unleashed upon him, Stiles let out another bark.

“Are you trying to drive me insane?” Derek growled, changing his rhythm to a series of long, stabbing thrusts.

“Maybe,” Stiles panted. “That’s what you’re doing–oh fucking hell–to me. Seriously, this is nuts how good this feels.”

Derek nuzzled his neck. “You got that right.”

Derek’s stamina was awe-inspiring. Stiles had always appreciated (in a purely aesthetic way) just how built the alpha was. Now those muscles were all focused on pounding him stupid. Stiles gripped the wooly pillow beneath him and moaned out his approval of everything Derek was doing to him.

His whole body was in a full-scale riot of pleasure. Every thrust and jab caused sparks to fly in his vision. Stiles gasped when he came again, still with no hand on him. And yet it still felt better than his hand had ever felt. That defied explanation. He drooled onto his arm and panted, his cries growing ever less lucid.

His attention only focused when he felt _something_ trying to widen his already amply-stretched anus. He blinked and wriggled, trying to figure out what was going on. Derek wasn’t pounding anymore. His focus had shifted to an inexorable pressure as he tried to get something that felt like as big and round as a tennis ball into Stiles entirely-too-willing body.

“Um, I was joking before about getting your hand in there.”

Derek nibbled his earlobe, which was cheating of the worst kind. It made Stiles groan in a completely pitiful way.

“Just relax, almost…. There….”

Stiles let out a startled yelp as the mysterious something slipped into him. “Um….”

“Just the knot. I waited as long as I could….”

“Just the which now?” Stiles looked blearily over his shoulder. 

Derek flashed his teeth. “My knot.”

Stiles thought that one over. In the brief glimpse he’d gotten of Derek before being pounced, he had noticed an odd shape to his cock, but he’d forgotten over the course of being turned into Derek’s fuck toy. 

“So, I’m being fucked by an alpha werewolf, on a dog bed, and I have his knot in me….” Stiles couldn’t help but laugh. He put his forehead back on his arms. “I guess I won’t be writing about this on Facebook.”

Derek rubbed his back gently for a moment. “You okay?”

“Oh, it’s all good.” One day, Stiles was going to figure out why weird things kept happening to him.

Derek started thrusting again, small, jabbing motions that pushed the knot in over Stiles’ prostate and obliterated the last of Stiles’ capacity for thought. He abandoned moaning and went instead to screaming. This was so deliciously wrong. He knew that on some level. But he decided he’d work all that out later when his brain was working.

Derek let out a sighing growl and froze. Stiles felt the knot expand, stretching his insides beyond what he felt were the factory specs. Then that impressive dick spasmed, pulsing loads of come into his body. He groaned and collapsed, quite done in. It hadn’t been the gentle deflowering he had sometimes pondered when thinking of Kereck, but it had been…. Well, he wasn’t sure what it had been. Awesome, certainly, was a possible way to describe it.

“Been wanting to do that for a long time.”

Stiles grinned stupidly. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You could have said.”

“I wasn’t sure how you’d react to me saying, ‘Stiles, I want to rip your clothes off and fuck you until you scream.’ I thought it might freak you out.”

Stiles chuckled. “Okay, yeah.” He stretched out bonelessly. “That was so good. Much better than you eating me.”

Derek nuzzled him. “Thanks for letting me seduce you.”

“Well, it was touch and go there for a bit….” Stiles licked his lips. “And then touch and grope, and touch and kiss…..” He sighed. “But we’re good? You’re not going to wolf out on me?”

Derek sniffed him. “You’re so covered in my scent now I could never hurt you.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose. “So, that means no shower?”

“Not yet.”

Stiles wriggled. “You’re, um, sort of crushing me.”

Derek rolled them so they were on their sides. His hands ran gently and possessively over Stiles naked, sweaty body. It felt wonderfully intimate and soothing. Stiles was surprised Derek wasn’t just jumping off of him and making his Sour Wolf face. He’d never suspected Derek was a cuddler.

_Come to think of it_ ….

“You’re still inside me.” Stiles blushed as he pointed that out.

“Uh huh.”

“Um, well, isn’t it over? I mean, I don’t have a lot of experience….”

“Or any.”

Stiles glowered over his shoulder. “Thanks for pointing that out. Anyway, shouldn’t you be taking your dick back now?”

“I can’t. We’re tied together.”

Only because Stiles had helped Scott study to get his job at the vet did he have any idea what that meant. And that knowledge didn’t put him at ease in any way. In fact, a flutter of panic struck him, which would have set off some flailing if any of his limbs could move.

“That’s not cool,” Stiles told him grumpily. “Take it out right now.”

“I can’t without hurting you.”

“I said now!”

“Stiles, calm down. The knot will recede in a while and then I’ll pull out.”

“A while? How long’s a while?”

“An hour maybe.”

“An hour?!” Stiles fumed. He was too weak to struggle, but he could still glare daggers at Derek. “You are so going to get it for this.”

Derek kissed his shoulders, looking thoroughly unrepentant. “Promise?”

“Oh, don’t even try to be cute—and when did you learn how to be cute? Never mind. None of your sweet-puppy looks will work on me. I am officially pissed at you.”

“You can’t say you didn’t like it.”

“I _can_ say that. I’d be lying, but it wouldn’t be the first time.” Derek laughed and Stiles glared some more. “This is not funny.”

“It is, kind of.”

Stiles muttered about Derek’s poor sense of humor for a few seconds. “I hate werewolves.”

“Don’t sulk….”

“I’m not sulking,” Stiles sulked.

“Okay.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he grumbled. “So, what am I supposed to do for an hour?”

“I’m kind of tired, myself.”

Stiles threw a disbelieving look over his shoulder. “I have a grapefruit shoved up my ass. That doesn’t make for comfy sleep time.”

Derek grinned, his eyes twinkling with something that looked way too much like amusement. He was in no mood to be the butt of any werewolf jokes.

“What?” Stiles snapped. “What are you so happy about?”

“Nothing….”

Stiles’ narrowed his eyes. “You’re proud, aren’t you? You’re going to tell all your little wolfy friends that I said your knot was the size of a grapefruit, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“I don’t believe you. I’m gonna be the Jenny Iverson of your little wolf pack.”

“Who’s Jenny Iverson?”

“This girl that Jackson nailed. He bragged to the whole team about how she loved his big dick and moaned for him to do it harder and anyway her name pretty much became synonymous with slut.”

Derek shook his head. “I wouldn’t let anyone call you a slut.”

“You wouldn’t?”

Derek thought it over. “Anyone but me, anyway.”

Stiles growled low in his throat. “See? It’s already starting.”

“Well, you did scream pretty loud.”

Stiles blushed and looked down. “Shut up.”

_Ten Minutes Later_

“You’re not actually telling Scott what we did?” Derek didn’t sound upset, just surprised.

Stiles snorted laughter and shook his head. His thumbs swept over his phone like lightning as he typed out his text message. “Yeah, I’m going to tell him that I just got mounted like a wolf in heat.”

“Nice image.”

“Don’t start with me, I’m still pissed.” Stiles knew his tone didn’t actually back up his words. “I’m just texting an apology for calling him an idiot.”

“But he is an idiot.”

“Yes, but calling him an idiot behind his back is not of the cool. Don’t you have any social skills?”

Derek caressed his hip. “Not really.”

Stiles pointedly removed that hand. “Don’t think you can sex me into forgiving you.”

“We could try it and see how you feel afterward.”

“Not gonna happen.”

_Ten Minutes After That._

“You need to aim higher. You have to hit that pig on the far end.”

“If I angle any higher, I’ll overshoot,” Stiles told him.

“Okay, but you only have one bird left,” Derek pointed out with grave seriousness.

“Yeah, I know that. Considering you never saw this game before five minutes ago, you maybe want to let the expert handle it?”

“You missed.”

“Damn it!”

_Ten Minutes After That_

“…so since then, it’s just been me and my dad. He’s been great, but I miss her, you know?”

Derek strong arm wrapped around his chest and held him close. “Yeah, I know.”

“I guess you would,” Stiles agreed with a grimace. “You never talk about your family.”

“I try to not think about it,” Derek confessed in a low voice. 

Stiles reached back and affectionately petted the back of Derek’s head. “Will you tell me about them? I mean, you don’t have to now, but sometime?”

Derek kissed his shoulder. “It … hurts … to talk about them.”

Stiles twisted and contorted until he managed to plant a tender kiss on the man’s lips. “I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t mean much….”

Derek lowered his eyes. “It does, actually. Most people figure the best werewolf is a dead werewolf.”

Stiles would have agreed at one point, but he didn’t mention that. “I wonder what you were like before the Argents messed you up.”

Derek buried his head in Stiles’ shoulder. “Oh, seriously, you are never going to know. It involved Grunge.”

Stiles giggled. “Now I have to know….”

_Five Minutes Later._

Derek’s rumbling laughter sent happy tremors over Stiles’ nerves. He barely noticed, since he was laughing so hard himself that there were tears in his eyes.

“So…. So…. Scott was all, ‘I like oysters.’ And I was all, ‘Dude, no, seriously, you’ll hate these.’”

“You’re evil!” Derek accused. “You knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.”

Stiles grinned. “Oh yeah. He totally went for it.”

“And then you told him that Rocky Mountain Oysters were actually bull testicles?”

“Ayep.” They shared more convulsive laughter. “Scott refused to believe me until I Googled it. Then he threw up for like an hour.”

“You are an evil mastermind.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

“I bet Scott never did.”

“Yeah, well, that taught him to never send love notes to Jackson with my name forged on them.”

“Priceless….”

_Five Minutes After That._

“I guess I’ve always known,” Stiles confessed, not objecting to the gentle caresses flitting across his chest. “I like girls and I’m interested in girls, but there’s always this other part of me that wonders about guys. I just didn’t really figure I would end up acting on it.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Stiles snickered. “Yeah, I noticed.” His let out a mildly objecting hiss when one of his nipples was pinched. “You seemed really happy about it.”

“I think I’m pretty much gay,” Derek confessed. “The one time I tried to be something I’m not, it was with Kate. And that worked out really well.” The bitterness in his voice was palpable

Stiles winced and reached back to stroke some part of the man (who was still buried deep inside him, the novelty of which had long since worn off.) “Gay huh? Wow.” He really felt touched that Derek would confess that to him.

“Gay and attracted to smart-mouthed, annoyingly brilliant guys. Yeah, my love life is pretty fucked up.”

Stiles giggled. “Brilliant, huh?”

“Shut up.”

_Five Minutes Later._

“You can’t be serious!”

Stiles blushed furiously. “I wish I wasn’t.”

“What were your parents thinking?”

“My dad insists it’s a traditional Stilinski family name. I’m pretty sure he was drunk when he told the hospital what name to put on the birth certificate.”

“Wow….”

“Yeah, my life in school sucked hard until I started going by Stiles.”

“I bet.”

“You have no idea. I bet no one ever messed with _you_ in school.”

“No, it wasn’t a problem for me.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Of course not.” He squirmed. “Ow, damn, I think I’m getting a cramp.”

He stretched and shifted and squirmed, but the muscle just wouldn’t stop aching.

“Stiles, settle down.”

“I will not!” he protested, thrashing a little. “You said it would be an hour and it’s been like six!”

“It has not.”

Stiles pounded on the pillows. “Liar! I bet it’s stuck, isn’t it? We’re going to need the Jaws of Life to get it out of my ass.”

Derek rumbled laughter. “No, but you need to stop squirming.”

“Or what, you’ll spank me? I want my ass back right this minute, damn you. I have to pee, I have to stretch my legs and I want to make out with you.” He hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud. “Let me loose.”

“No, just…. Stop that. Ow, stop wriggling so much…. Oh damn it.”

“What?” Stiles snapped. His eyes flew wide and he looked back over his shoulder. “No, no, that is not happening. You damn sexy fucking bastard evil wolf! Stop it right now!”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

Derek ran his hand over Stiles’ thigh and hip. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. You have this effect on me. All that wriggling….”

“Think of baseball.”

“Sexy guys in tight pants….”

“No! No, ugly, overweight guys with bad facial hair!”

Derek’s questing hand slipped down to toy with Stiles’ embarrassingly hard cock. “I’d rather just think of you instead.”

“Absolutely not! No, bad wolf! Stop that!”

_Ten minutes later._

“Un, umf, so g-good,” Stiles panted, bouncing up and down in Derek’s lap.

Derek’s hands were everywhere, massaging, teasing, pinching and stroking. His low, guttural moans made Stiles’ head swim. He couldn’t figure out why Derek was so hot for him, but he sure liked it. Even as infuriatingly smug and absurdly insatiable as the alpha was, Stiles couldn’t really find it in him to be too upset. He would never walk right again, sure, but right now he was the happiest guy in the world.

“Love the way you feel,” Derek murmured.

That low, rumbling voice combined with the pumping fist on his dick and the throbbing spear in his ass sent Stiles deliriously over the edge. He yelled out something obscene and slumped back against Derek.

“Need to…. Got to….”

Derek didn’t explain further. He just moved Stiles back onto his knees and fucked him with hard, merciless thrusts. Stiles wasn’t able to do anything but whine and plead for the man to do it to him harder. Any hope for reclaiming his dignity after this was, he knew, a hopeless cause. That went onto the list of things to worry about tomorrow.

“Yeah, there we go,” Derek hugged, spilling into him.

Stiles smiled happily as they curled up on their sides. He was exhausted and so utterly sated and sore in all the best ways. He snuggled back against Derek and let his eyes drift shut so he could focus on the delightful little twinges and sparks still popping along his nerves.

“Was it good?” he asked, knowing it was a stupid, silly, question, but needing to hear that Derek had enjoyed it as much as he.

“It was the best,” Derek approved. “You’re wonderful.”

Stiles sighed happily. Sleep was pulling at him, but he was having trouble getting comfortable. For one, Derek was a furnace of heat behind him, like a thermal blanket on a hot summer night. It was stifling. He also didn’t have anything other than his arm for a pillow.

And there was that other thing.

“Derek…. Why are you still…? Derek, tell me that didn’t restart the clock.”

The silence behind him was profound.

“Derek!”

“Sorry….”

“I seriously hate you,” Stiles grumped sleepily, even though he suspected his feelings were quite the opposite.

“You do not.”

“I’m gonna go to sleep. When I wake up, there had better be a lot less cock in my ass, that’s all I’m saying. Otherwise there will be consequences of the dire sort.”

Using Derek’s beefy arm as a pillow, Stiles was able to get into a modestly comfortable position. And being so tired, he was able to fall asleep in spite of the fact that his ass was full of Derek. Nestled in next to the alpha, Stiles felt secure and happy and (though he wouldn’t admit it) content.


End file.
